


Separation

by vaultboii



Series: anahardt [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Memories, Mercy is here but just barely, what if reinhardt is the one who finds Ana after she's shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-08-11 09:52:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7886503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaultboii/pseuds/vaultboii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Overwatch falls, he’s the one who finds her.</p><p> </p><p>an interpretation of the events concerning Ana and Reinhardt after the fall of Overwatch, based purely off speculation</p>
            </blockquote>





	Separation

**Author's Note:**

> DID SOMEONE CALL FOR ANA AND REINHARDT ANGST
> 
> *chucks at Overwatch fandom* HERE, HAVE MY TRASH

When Overwatch falls, he’s the one who finds her.

Sickly sun oozing through Ana’s post is the only thing that leads him to her. The COM’s dead; it’s been like that for a while, the agency scattered and too quiet to say even a peep on the line. No one trusts the line either; rumour has it Talon has an agent skilled enough to pierce through any line with enough time, and none of the remaining recruits are eager to test that theory.

He’s the only one to think of her. Whilst the others, numb with shock and misunderstanding stand blind in the ruins of the now-smoldering building, a thought sneaks into his mind and is seized into high priority immediately. He doesn’t ask permission to do it. There is no boss anymore. There is only flame.

He finds her in her nook.

She’s curled in a ball. He can’t tell why until he sees the red, and then his mind blanks; _forget Overwatch, forget honour, forget revenge._ Helmet is tossed off, and he’s kneeling beside her, lifting her gently enough to see the wound, and feel the feverish heat generating off her body. His hands fumble trying to drape her over him, and he swears beneath his breath, ripping off his gauntlets.

Blood drips down the side of her face. He can’t tell where it’s from.

“It’ll be alright,” he whispers to her, as she murmurs and groans. She tries feebly to touch her head; he swats away her attempts with a hand. It’s trembling, and tired. It’s nothing like the professional he once knew.

When she speaks, it’s not Ana.

“Reinhardt was always my favourite,” she snickers, a half-crazed delusional soul, lost in the midst of the pain and confusion. “Always my favourite. Such a sweetie.” She chokes, and blood dribbles down the side of her mouth. “Didn’t,” and a gasp, “Really appreciate t-the cyclops jokes though.”

“I’m right here, Fräulein,” he murmurs, the words as sharp as a knife cutting into him. There’s tears dripping down his face, rivers down into his beard, and he can’t seem to stop them. “I’m right here.”

“Fareeha always liked him too,” the echo of Ana gasps again, heaving for breath. She coughs, and blood splatters all over his armour. “Said he was really nice and enthusiastic. Too loud, though.” A chuckle, heaving in and out between breaths. “She was damn right about that.”

“Ana, shhh.” He coaxes her, but he already knows she’s too damn stubborn for her own good. “Save your breath.”

“I liked him as a friend,” she murmurs, and her cap falls off. “Wish he was more.”

And then he’s remembering all their flirting, all those pickup lines and stuff they threw at each other, him never with a thought that Ana could have meant them, meant more than just platonic.

Her lips move, and smiles at him. Something focuses. “Don’t mind me,” is gasped, dried blood on her lips, dried blood around her nose, “Just admiring the view.”

_And he remembers that one._

_“Again with the flexing?” Ana’s saying, watching him pick up his hammer and balance it as onlookers gaze astonished along. “You big attention-seeker.”_

_“You don’t seem to mind it.” He winks back at her, and there’s that exasperated look he knows so well._

_“Just admiring the view.” She finally says._

“Don’t you die on me,” is all he can sob out, scream out.

There’s a chuckle. He looks up to see her faintly focus on him, take a hand and drift it down the side of his cheek. “...Love you, you big...oaf.”

She stops moving.

* * *

 

He contacts the rest of the team over COM. He doesn’t care that Talon might hear, or that the big organizations are knocking angrily at their doors wondering what just happened. Ana is all that matters. Just Ana.

“Come to Ana’s Nook,” he says into the COM, quietly enough that they can just barely hear him over the static of the radio. “Ana’s hurt.”

When they come, it’s quiet. He sits there, hands draped around her small, so small body, tear-stained cheeks shining in the ill sun. He knows they can tell he’s crying. He doesn’t care.

When Mercy sees her, the doctor says nothing, just directs him to set down her still-breathing body (so small and weak in his arms) along a medical table along a window. He doesn’t want to leave her.

He visits her for three days straight, without food or drink. After that, they kick him out.

He hopes she’s doing well.

* * *

 

They tell him she’s dead two days later.

He leaves Overwatch only two minutes later.

**Author's Note:**

> this is purely headcanon i'm just a lil' lost trash child with my two favourite grandparents


End file.
